Andraste
by Starsabre
Summary: When Andraste's family tells her to abandon the force, she abandons them. Now, alone in the universe, she has to find a way to survive. Will she ever find her way to a Jedi temple?
1. Our Secret

**Our Secret**

** 87 ABY **

** Ac'siel, Csilla **

"Adenus! Adenus look what I can do!" The young Chiss turned with a start as his little sister burst into his room, his arm knocking the spaceship model he'd been painting to the floor.

"Andraste! Don't startle me when I'm working." He bent over to pick up the model, but was interrupted by his sister's sudden yell.

"No!" Surprised at her own outburst, she cupped her hands over her mouth and took a breath. "Let me get it for you. I made you knock it over." She took a step forward, staring intently at the model, and then lowered her arms, her little fists clenched to her sides. As the seconds passed, the expression on Adenus' face slowly turned from quizzical to annoyed. With a sigh, he reached for the model once more, but again, Andraste stopped him. "Wait, wait!" She bounced on her toes, desperation in her voice.

"Well are you going to pick it up or not?" He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at his sister.

"Yes, but... But just watch! I want to show you what I can do!" She turned her attention back to the model, screwing up her face in concentration. She took a deep breath and held it, her muscles so tense that she was shaking. Having had enough of her antics, Adenus frowned at his little sister and moved to pick up the model a third time, but before his fingers could close around it, it jumped out of his grasp.

"What?" Adenus's jaw dropped and he stared incredulously at his sister, who was jumping up and down in excitement.

"Did you see? Did you see? I did that! I can move things with-"

"Ssh!" He slapped a hand over her mouth before she could finish the sentence. "Not so loud!"

Andraste pulled his hand from her face, a frown on her lips. "Why not?"

Adenus glanced around, as if expecting to suddenly find others in his room, then walked across the room and closed the door. He knelt in front of his sister, who was still sulking in the middle of the bedroom. "I'm really proud of you Andraste. It's a special thing to be able to use the Force."

Andraste's eyes went as round as saucers, and her mouth formed a little o. "The Force?" she exclaimed.

"Hush! We can't let anyone know, ok? This has to be our secret."

"But_ why?" _The little Chiss plopped into a sitting position, her dress billowing around her like a tent before she smooshed it flat.

"Well, you'll make other people jealous. And then other people will be angry at our whole family, and you know what might happen then?"

"Shame," Andraste whispered, clasping her hands in her lap.

Adenus nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder. "But I'm not ashamed of you, Andraste. Listen... You can practise using the Force in my room, but you can't tell anyone else."

Her face the picture of innocence and solemnity, Andraste nodded. "Our secret."


	2. Table Talk

**Table Talk**

** 94 ABY **

** Ac'siel, Csilla **

The clink of silverware on china was the only sound in the dining room. It echoed off the walls and only added to the feeling of opression and hoplessness that the architecture worked so hard to create. High ceilings, gray walls, no decoration... Andraste hated it. She pushed the food on her plate around in circles, stopping every ten seconds to take a halfhearted bite. Her father shot a glare at her from across the table, chewing as if he were crunching up the bones of a mortal enemy. Andraste gave a heavy, almost theatrical sigh.

"Andraste, _darling,_ eat your food."

"I _am_ eating, mother." Andraste directed a venomous look at her mother, who returned it in full before turning her attention back to her plate.

Andraste returned to shifting her food around the plate. Everything about this meal was bland. The colors seemed washed out, the taste was nothing special. Even the texture was the same for everything on her plate. She took a deep breath and then set her fork down, trying to muster all of her courage. She placed her hands on the table and scooted farther back in her chair, looking at her parents as she did so.

"You're not going anywhere until you finish your meal," her father said, his voice sounding like the thunder that precedes a storm.

Andraste opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat, and before she could try again, she forgot what the words had been. Her father glowered at her, obviously expecting a response. She took another breath and tried to calm her racing heart, but to no avail. She had planned for this, had written a small speech filled with convincing arguments to present to her parents, but it was all forgotten now. So for whatever reason, perhaps just to break the silence, she said the first thing that came to her mind.

"I've decided that I'm going to be a Jedi knight."

Dead silence. Andraste chanced a glance at her family. The expressions on their faces ranged from varying degrees of horror from her siblings, to disgust from her mother, to simmering rage on the face of her father. She bit her lip and moved her hands to her lap. _Well, _she thought, _there's no turning back now._

Her father placed his fork down on the table and straightened up in his chair, glowering at Andraste the whole time. "Absolutely not." His voice grew louder with each word he spoke. "I've told you once, I've told you a _thousand _times to FORGET about the force! It's nothing but a bunch of superstitious _Huttwash _and it will never do you any good! The most it will ever lead you to is ruin!"

His words hung in the air until Andraste jumped up from her seat, tipping it over and causing it to clatter noisily on the floor. "I don't CARE what you think anymore! I'm not changing who I am! And if you're so worried about me _bringing shame on the family, _then you know what? I'll do you a favor and leave!" She stormed out of the room, her anger seeming to darken the air around her as she went. Snarling, her father threw his napkin on the table and went to follow her.

Andraste had never been so angry in her life. She whirled about her room, stuffing clothes and valuables into her satchel. Occasionally she would stop and try to calm herself, but the image of her father, with that permanent look of superiority on his face, would pop up in her mind's eye, sending her around her room once more, throwing things and breaking others and making as big a mess as she could. Finally, her rage played out, she gathered up her satchel, filled with clothes and jewellry that she intended to sell for as many credits as she could get. With a last look around at her trashed room, she opened the door to leave and was met by the scowling visage of her father, waiting just outside the door. She impulsively stepped back, cornered into her room.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, obiously intending the question to be a rhetorical one. He moved forward, blocking the doorway.

"Anywhere. Away from here. Doesn't really matter, as long as you're not there." Andraste spoke through clenched teeth.

"No, you're not. You're going to stay here, and get a proper job, and be a contributing member to society!" He scanned the wreck behind his daughter, the frown on his face deepening until it looked painful. "I don't want to see you out of your room until you've cleaned it up." He turned to leave, pulling the door closed behind him as he went.

Andraste, however, had other plans. Her anger was back in full, and, without fully registering what she was doing, she blasted the door off of its hinges, throwing her father into the far wall. Swinging her satchel onto her shoulder, she took off at a dead run down the hallway, heading for the exit as fast as her legs would carry her. Her father, holding his now-broken wrist to his chest, crawled out from under the busted door and staggered to his feet.

"Andraste!" he roared after her, "I don't want to see you around here ever again! Do you hear me? Don't ever come back!"

The air rested thick and heavy on Andraste's skin, leaving behind an uncomfortable half-damp feeling. Staring out onto the shipyard, she pulled her thin cloak tighter about herself in an attempt to keep the air off of her. A part of her wished she hadn't left, that she'd just kept her mouth shut and dealt with her family... But she knew she'd never be happy here. And besides, she'd heard her father. A sigh escaped her lips, but it sounded flat to her ears.

The sound of raised voices pulled Andraste out of her thoughts. She peered out of the gloom from between two hangars and struggled to make out two figures across the tarmac. One man, a Chiss, was running out towards a transport ship from which another man had just exited. His skin was most certainly not blue, however, but a shade somewhere between peach and beige. She couldn't make out what was being said, but the Chiss didn't seem happy about the man being there. The man was doing a good deal of arm-waving, and Andraste could hear snippets of what he was saying.

"...told to land... don't... kriffing protocol!"

Andraste slipped around the back of the hangar, sticking to the shadows and creeping ever closer to the man and his ship. She finally managed to get close enough to hear the conversation by ducking behind an open bay door and peeking around the corner.

"Look here," the Chiss said, "I don't care how many times you say it, you weren't cleared to land. We have a freighter coming in and we need this pad open."

"I understand, but- hey, I do! But I'm on a really tight schedule and I just need to pick up my shipment, and then I can get out of your hair. Look, I'm already here, so let me just load up and then I'll scoot."

The Chiss ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. "Fine, alright. Just be quick."

"Yeah, of course. Thanks, pal."

The man moved as if to pat the Chiss on the shoulder, but obviously thought better of it and slapped his hand against his thigh instead. The Chiss turned with a frown and headed back to the spaceport terminal, and Andraste ducked back into the bay to avoid being seen by him.

Mav Prescott stood under his ship, watching the Chiss leave. The fake smile he'd been wearing dropped away, and he blew out a long sigh, trudging over to the hangar bay where his cargo was waiting. "I swear," he muttered as he walked through the doors, "those Chiss are gonna be the death of me. Why do I even bother with them anymore? Ugh." He pried the lid off of one of the crates, examining the charrics inside, then nodded. After securing the lid back onto the crate, he lifted it with a grunt and hefted it back to his ship. Mav always preferred to do things himself.

After the last crate was loaded up, Mav climbed up into his ship's cockpit and powered up the engines. He half-expected that Chiss to come running back out onto the airfield, telling him he couldn't leave yet, but of course he didn't. _The less I have to deal with that one, the better, _Mav thought. Desperate for a nap (this seemed to happen every time he visited Csilla), he set the ship on autopilot and leaned back in his chair. He didn't close his eyes just yet, however. Takeoff was his favorite part of flying, he loved seeing space draw closer and closer until it was all around. As the ship's engines gave a final kick to propel it out of the planet's atmosphere, causing the ship to lurch forward, a loud bump sounded from the cargo hold.

"What the...? I could'a swore I had those crates in tight... frakkin ancient piece of crud ship..." Mav pulled himself up off of his seat, grumbling all the way down the ladder to the cargo hold. Flipping on the lights, he looked out at the crates, which all seemed to be in place. He grunted and turned to leave, but stopped when he heard what sounded like a gasp from behind the crates. His hand on his blaster, he crept toward the crates, waiting just before he rounded the corner and listening intently for any other noises. There was another quiet gasp, like uneven breathing. Leaning out, he peered around the stack of crates.

"Aw, you've gotta be-! Who the hell're you?"

A bedraggled Chiss girl, looking absolutely terrified, was curled up against the far wall. She had obviously been crying and it didn't seem like she had understood a word that Mav had said. He rubbed his eyes, completely worn out. _If I never see another Chiss for the rest of my life, it'll be too soon._

"You don't speak Basic, do you?"

She didn't reply.

"'Course you don't. Damn Chiss never do... Ugh, alright, how 'bout Minnisiat?" He asked, switching seamlessly beween the two languages.

The Chiss girl's eyes widened. "Minnisiat? Yes, I... I speak a little."

"Good. To business, then. Who are you and what do you think you're doing on my ship?" Mav leaned up against a stack of crates, arms crossed.

"Um, I... My name is Csapla'nidras'tevivend." She paused when Mav's face crinkled up in some weird mixture of confusion and possibly pain, then continued, "uh, you can call me Andraste... I... I want to be a Jedi knight but my family, they do not want me to... So I am running away fom my home."

Mav sat down in front of Andraste, clearing his throat. "A Jedi knight, huh? Aren't you a little old to be a padawan?"

A look of absolute despair found its way onto Andraste's face. "Too old? How?"

"Well, I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure Jedi start training when they're still children. Easier to learn when you're young, and all. In my opinion... Now, and listen before you say anything, I think you should go back home. You'll be much better off. I'll turn the ship around, it's not a problem."

She grimaced and turned away. "I am not welcome back home. I had a... disagreement... with my father, and, well, I may have injured him, and he told me never to... I am not welcome back." She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her cloak and sniffled.

"Oh, jeez." Mav rubbed his eyes again, wishing he'd never set foot on Csilla. "Look, ok, I won't take you back, but... You understand that I have a shipment to deliver, right? I can't make a pitstop anywhere to drop you off, so you're headin' all the way to Onderon with these babies." He patted the nearest crate. " I can't say it'll be pleasant... There's nowhere else for you to go on this hunk of junk, so you might as well stay right here. And after we get to Onderon... well, I can't take care of you. I've got jobs to do, and they don't involve getting you to a Jedi temple... But I'm sure you can make it on your own." Andraste nodded, and he stood up and headed for the ladder, determined to catch a few z's before too long. Halfway up the ladder he paused. "Oh, and by the way, my name's Mav. I'll be right up here if you need me." And he left.

Andraste wiped the last of the crocodile tears off of her cheeks, leaned up against a crate, and smiled.


End file.
